


Unorthodox Methods

by lea_hazel



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Amulet of Mara shenanigans, Awkward Flirting, Burglary, Canon-Typical Romance, Courtship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Kissing, Marriage Proposal, Skyrim Kink Meme, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:39:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Romantic burglary does not always go to plan. </p>
<p>A look at a romance unfolding... not much differently than game canon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unorthodox Methods

**Author's Note:**

> I am eternally amused by the whole "life is hard and courtship is brief" angle of Skyrim romance, and I wanted to play around with the zero-to-proposal dynamic a little. So this fill came out slightly on the crack side of the fence.

She was rummaging through one of the chests in the store room when she was caught. She'd already had her chance to go over the other two room quite thoroughly, and vet them to her satisfaction. The store room was last, mostly because at first glance it looked like nothing more than a heap of broken furniture and dirty rushes on the floor. She was pleasantly surprised, then, to find one or two items that were whole and mostly intact. Or she would have been, if she hadn't got caught.   
  
"Find what you're looking for?"   
  
She froze, bent down on one knee, her hand midway to the knob of a closed drawer.   
  
"I could help you look, if you like."   
  
She contemplated getting up and turning around, and tried to calculate hastily whether she could make it to the door before she got her head bashed in, and then out to the docks before the city guard heard the shouting and came running. She didn't relish the thought of swimming across the river in this season, at this hour of night. Or at all, really. She was certain there were slaughterfish in it, and probably worse.   
  
"Why go for the junk room, anyway? All the good loot is in the store, behind the counter. Not a very smart thief, are you? Take off that hood, will you? I'd like to see who I'm speaking with before I decide whether you're worth the trouble of having the guard in here."   
  
She raised her hand to her face and slowly drew back the hood.   
  
"You!"   
  
She smiled awkwardly, cursing her poor timekeeping. "This looks worse than it is, I swear."   
  
"I might have known," he said, crossing his arms, "that only a thief would agree to break into someone's house, even if it is to return something. That's what I get for trusting a stranger, I suppose."   
  
She raised her hands before her, palms out. "I didn't take anything! I wasn't going to, either."   
  
He raised one eyebrow. "Yes, that seems credible enough. Off you go, then, and come back to burgle me another night."   
  
"I could have taken the glass dagger from the shop," she pointed out, "or the rubies from the locked chest in your room."   
  
"You got that open, did you?" he said, not looking overly impressed.   
  
She flapped a hand. The lock was no match for her skills, not even a challenge, really.   
  
"So, stranger," he said, "why did you break into my home if not to steal from me? I'll have you know I quite liked you, up until now."   
  
She hesitated. "Can I stand up?"   
  
He snorted. "By all means, let the accused stand tall."   
  
"I was only curious," she said.   
  
"Curious? About my personal belongings?" he asked. "If you're interested in my wares, you can inquire after them during business hours. I'd be more than willing to show you through my inventory."   
  
Her knees complained as she struggled to her feet. Too many hours against cold stone floors. She wondered if stretching out would be seen as a threatening gesture. Weighing her odds, she decided to risk it, and indulged a long, joint-popping stretch.   
  
By the lantern-light, he'd not gotten a very good look at her, just enough to recognize her face and her voice. And remember, belatedly, that he still didn't know her name. The light flickered over her as she stood up, illuminating her long legs, the bare skin of her forearms, the planes of her face beneath the dark hood. Not that he was one to ogle, but...   
  
"Is that Lady Mara's amulet?"   
  
She raised a hand self-consciously to her throat, where the trinket hung.   
  
"I'm surprised someone like you isn't married already," he said.   
  
"Are you," she said.   
  
"Whatever my misgivings about your... line of work, you are clearly a very impressive young woman," he said. "I would have thought you'd have had plenty of offers."   
  
"No," she said. "Well, yes, a few offers."   
  
"Just none that you were interested in accepting," he guessed.   
  
Her chin jutted out.   
  
His eyes left her face and swept across the room speculatively. "You were casing my house," he said, "but not for a burglary."   
  
"You weren't supposed to return so early!" she said defensively.   
  
"And you studied my routine," he added dryly. 

"It looks worse than it is," she mumbled again.   
  
"Did your mother die when you were very young?" he asked.   
  
She crossed her arms over her chest, and the amulet, too. "Well, that's rude!"   
  
"I'm sorry," he said, not quite truthfully, "but I can't  _imagine_  any other reason why you might think this was a good idea. Perhaps no one taught you the principles of courtship. Conversation, for example, is generally considered an essential component."   
  
She mumbled something indistinct and shuffled towards the door, her feet dragging and her hood drooping sadly down her back.   
  
"I didn't say I wasn't interested."   
  
She stopped abruptly, her hand reaching for the door latch, hanging still in midair.   
  
"You seem to be awfully easily startled," he said, far nearer than she could rightly expect. "For a thief, at any rate."   
  
A soft puff of breath tickled her cheek, and a softer touch followed it. She suppressed a shiver and turned around, dropping her hand from its ridiculous frozen position. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she wiped them nervously across her thighs.   
  
"This is a most unorthodox proposal, I hope you realize," he said, still tracing her face with a fingertip.   
  
"I wasn't meaning to get caught," she pointed out.   
  
His fingers moved from gently stroking her cheek to tracing the ouline of her mouth. She wanted to do something bold, like dart out her tongue and lick his fingertip as it passed. Instead she stood frozen with her arms hanging dumbly at her sides, trying not to swallow nervously and make it obvious that her mouth was paper-dry. Not a very kissable moment, she though just as he was leaning in to kiss her.   
  
When she pulled back she was panting and she could feel the scrape of her leather armor against her skin. She idly thought that maybe it was time she started wearing some nice, soft cotton padding between the two skins. It was a long moment before she caught her breath, a long moment during which he watched her intently with a quizzical smile on his face. And then the moment ended, and she put her hand on his neck to pull him in for another kiss.   
  
She could feel that it was sloppy and teeth-knocking and she cursed herself for her over-eagerness. It  _would_  be just her luck to weather breaking and entering and still drive someone away by slobbering all over him like a dog. She sucked in a harsh breath and prayed that he wouldn't shove her away. The least he could do was let her execute a retreat with some semblance of dignity.   
  
Instead he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against his body.   
  
She'd never been so confused in her life. Not that she was complaining. He was warm and he smelled nice, and his mouth was doing something that she didn't understand, but she knew she liked it. His breath burned against her skin and she knew he was laughing or talking, but she couldn't hear the words over the sound of her blood roaring in her ears. Her eyes drifted open even though she hadn't realized she'd shut them.   
  
He looked entirely too smug.   
  
She opened her mouth to say something snippy and drew out a long, undignified moan.   
  
"Now, I think this has gone quite far enough," he was saying.   
  
"...What?" Her brain felt as thick as snowberry treacle, and thinking was like trying to swim through it. She couldn't puzzle his meaning and felt herself begin to panic.   
  
He was stroking her cheek again, reassuringly, perhaps. "Call me old-fashioned, if you will, but I'd prefer to conduct the rest of our acquaintance under more auspicious circumstances. Or less criminal ones, at least. Possibly once I'd had the chance to, oh, sweep the floor. Maybe set out some wine."   
  
"...Oh," she said, feeling thicker than usual. "I'll just..." she trailed off, not certain what she should be doing next.   
  
He grasped her by the shoulders, kissed her forehead firmly, and turned her towards the door.   
  
"You should get going to wherever it is you go when you're not engaging in romantic burglary," he said. "If you stay another moment, you'll certainly end up spread-eagled on my bed." 

He pushed her out the door into the street before she'd had a chance to process that last part, and she groaned. With a rattling sigh, she turned towards Candlehearth Hall. She had a room waiting for her there, but she had a feeling it would take her a  _very_  long time to fall asleep. 


End file.
